When we left off in part 2, Martin Sheen and I were parked with driver’s-side windows together, our cars blocking the small neighborhood street. Meanwhile, the stalker in the white pickup was slowly coming up behind my car, most likely realizing I’d just obtained A-list mother-fucking help.
Oh, …and we learned that I’m as bright as a cliff-jumping lemming when panicked.
As the white pickup approaches our cars, he pulls over to the side of the road as – if waiting for me to finish my conversation – so he can then continue on with terrorizing me.
Martin says to me, “Turn your car around and pull up behind me. I got through to the Sheriff’s office and they’re going to meet us at the old Malibu station.” He said ‘US’ !!! Yay Martin!
(It’s important to note two things here: A, The police agreed to come out for Martin Sheen – not when it was just little old, not-famous me calling, but for Martin. And B, The lazy cops still only agreed to meet us so far – at a station closed years before, in an empty parking lot about 15 minutes away from where we were now.)
I do as Martin says, and the stalker also starts to maneuver his car as if readying to make a u-turn like I did.
But then Martin Sheen, A-list megastar and rescuer of blond-haired lemmings, starts yelling at the stalker!!
*swoon* (somewhere a lemming just fainted)
Martin to stalker: “Hey! What are you doing terrorizing this woman?!!”
Stalker, rolls down dark window about three inches, so we can only see his eyes, and utters a weak: “nothing.”
Martin to obviously stupid stalker: “What do you mean ‘Nothing’?! Why are you following this woman?! You’re scaring her! Roll down your window so we can see your face!!”
Stalker, doesn’t roll down window: “Uh, I’m not doing anything.”
Martin: “Then you can follow us down to talk to the Sheriff right now!”
Stalker: “Ok”, and turns his truck around to be behind mine.
The three of us head out for the 15 minute drive down the hill to the old police station, Martin in the lead, me in the middle, and the stalker following right behind. Not even Salvador Dali could come up with a scene this surreal.
I can’t even begin to imagine what Martin was thinking about this whole thing, but I’ve always wondered.
Part way through the trip to meet the police, the stalker begins to leave distance between our cars, and eventually turns the opposite direction.
Martin and I reach the empty parking area, occupied only by two police cars. By now I’m in full tears, mascara streaming down my puffy, red face. I’m sure I looked hot.
When Martin and I get out of our respective cars, I run over and throw my arms around him, blubbering, “Thank you, thank you so much!!”
He may have recoiled, just a little bit.
The police began addressing him, and ignore me. *sticks pins into LAPD voodoo doll, utters dark curse while waving hand over doll*
Martin, The Chivalrous One, defers to me, only interjecting at the point he came to the scene.
*swoon* (the lemming fainted again)
The police took the information, and were just going to leave. They weren’t going to look for the suspect. Martin suggested they at least check the surrounding area, and they begrudgingly agreed.
I tell them I have to go back to that neighborhood to my volunteer position, and could one of them please follow me, just to see that I make it safely.
The cops said, “No, the guy’s probably gone.” And what did you use to reach this deduction? Oh right, the donuts you have for brains.
*more pins in LAPD voodoo doll* It has just occurred to me the guy in his yard must have been a cop, too.
Martin Sheen, A-list Megastar, and Rescuer of Lemmings, says to me: “I’ll escort you back.”
*bamm* The lemming is now out cold, folks. She’s having a tough time remembering when anyone was ever this kind to her. Ever.
Good as his word, he drove back to the neighborhood with me following, and then went on his way.
As soon as I got inside the building, I told Ramon, Martin’s son, what had happened.
Ramon says: “Oh, you’re the one! My dad called me from his cell phone to tell me something weird was going on, and he’d be a little late picking up steaks for our BBQ tonight. He asked me, but I didn’t know who you were.”
Well, it seems the lemming isn’t the only one who has trouble remembering. Touche’, Ramon, touche’.
I later wrote Martin a thank you card, again professing my undying gratitude.
The part that’s even more surreal than being rescued by Martin Sheen – yes, there is something that is even more surreal than that - is it appears this person was hired to terrify me. A paid thug. And he wasn’t the only one. There were others as the days went by, however they were a bit more discrete. But not by much, as I quickly identified most, if not all, of them. Sometimes I just drove straight to the police station with them behind me. That always got rid of them.
Not so coincidentally, I had been in negotiations with Marc Andreessen’s handlers. When they hired me as his Estate Manager, they neglected to have me sign a confidentiality agreement. His handlers were offering me a five-figure sum in exchange for my termination and, more importantly, my silence regarding their unscrupulous, unethical, and possibly illegal handling of his money. (I had tried to warn Marc about what they were doing, but he didn’t want to hear it. Anything emotional was always difficult for him, and he really looked up to this one guy in particular. But Marc must have approached them about it because right after I told Marc, his handlers approached me with the hush-money deal and subsequent termination.)
Shortly before this terrifying night, their attorney had stopped communicating with mine. Fell off the face of the earth. No communication. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. I thought my attorney might have been the flaky one, so I even attempted to contact their attorney directly. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.
I had been ready to sign and take the money. I don’t know what they thought they were going to accomplish by terrorizing me. My attorney had been delaying, so maybe they thought I wasn’t going to sign and resorted to terrorizing me in order to scare me into signing. But I really don’t know – to do something so cruel to another human being is beyond my comprehension. I’ll never be able to understand what they were thinking.
After I realized who was behind the terrorizing and stalking, I refused to sign the agreement.
This meant losing the money – a lot of money – but they had crossed a line with me. If Marc didn’t care to hear what they were doing when I tried to warn him, then I had no qualms about taking the money. Obviously, my loyalty meant nothing to him.
But having me terrorized was going too far.
These people are the most unethical, unscrupulous and dishonest people I have ever had the misfortune to work with. And guess what they do? They handle billions of dollars for some of the richest people in the world. People far richer and far more famous than Marc Andreessen.
I hope Marc has wised up and found himself some more honest and ethical handlers.
It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if I hear from them, or more likely their hired thugs, after this post. Folks, if you don’t hear from me, you know who to suspect in my disappearance. (<– not at all kidding, they are that bad)
Back to my hero: Martin Sheen is a rare soul. For all the fame he’s achieved, he could have become a completely different person. Instead, this incredible soul is kind, generous, and very “real”. I’m forever grateful to him, not only for coming to my rescue, but for showing such kindness to a total stranger when she needed it most. I felt abandoned by Marc, someone to whom I was very loyal (and I was later crushed to learn he could be party to such cruel treatment of an employee who had tried to warn him), abandoned by the guy in his yard who refused to help, and long ago abandoned by family when I needed them most. Martin did more that night than just rescue a frightened young woman.
Damn, I feel so dramatic at times.
Martin, if you’re reading this, let me say it again: Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. If there is anything I can ever do for you or your family, I’d be delighted and honored to return the favor. Just ask.
So there you have it, folks. I told you it would seem like something right out of a movie.